


Lunar Fallout

by aprettysmalldose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode: s03e12 Lunar Ellipse, Feelings, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, Human!Derek, Lunar Eclipse, M/M, Porn, Season 3a, Some Plot, Spark!Stiles, bamf!Lydia, he doesnt like it, well he's human for a little bit anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprettysmalldose/pseuds/aprettysmalldose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunar Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before s03e12 Lunar Ellipse aired, and was subsequently not posted. Ever. UNTIL NOW.  
> Thank you to my betas, madwench-sama and broodingsoul :)<3

Stiles is driving too fast.  He knows he’s driving too fast.  But if he doesn’t make it in time, then Derek is going to die.  Stiles isn’t gonna let that happen.  He’s invested a lot of time and effort (2 hours in the water holding up 2 fucking tons of werewolf dead weight is just one of many examples bitches) keeping Derek Hale alive, he isn’t about to fuck it up now.

 

The things Deaton told him whirl around in his brain, some of them--some of them Stiles isn’t sure if he believes.  To the best of his knowledge, Deaton has never lied to them, or steered them wrong, but there’s just something about his reticence about _every single fucking thing ever_ that rubs Stiles the wrong way.

 

One thing Stiles does know to be true: he can save Derek--he has the _power_ to save Derek Hale.  He can feel it in his bones, a siren song leading him home.

 

He rounds a curve too fast by more than half, and the back end of the jeep fishtails, his heart leaps up into his throat, and then he’s easing his baby back out, starting to breathe again.  He’s out past the suburbs, on the edge of the preserve, making good time, when the deer flood the road in front of him all around him.

 

He hits the brakes and swerves on instinct, and the rest is panic and being upside down, the world raining glass and then blackness.

*****

Stiles is late.  Derek paces to and fro around his loft, wondering how worried he should be that Peter’s disappeared, that Cora has left as well, cryptic advice and ‘maybe someone who can help’ not enough to stave off the helpless feeling in his gut.  Worried about how he’s not the alpha anymore, can’t feel Isaac at all, worried how he’s going to protect Lydia when the alpha pack shows up.  Worried about how Stiles texted Lydia told the two of them to wait for him, that he had the answer and how he should have shown up long before now.

 

But mostly he’s worried about how every time he turns his head, he can see the full moon through the window, slowly turning a rust orange red.  Even as he looks, a small corner of the moon fades into blackness.  Derek’s body shudders.  He has enough problems _feeling_ weak and helpless, he doesn’t need to actually _be_ weak and helpless.

 

“Tell me again,” he says, rounding on Lydia, nervously wringing her hands and looking at her phone again and again.

 

She sighs and tells him again, her story more like a recital by rote now.  They’re both too terrified, too beyond pettiness to claw all over each other’s nerves at this point.  Derek is careful not to accuse her, and she in turn doesn’t loose her whiplash tongue on him.  It’s a fragile truce.  Derek hopes she knows that he’ll defend her with his life though, hopes she knows that he would never mean her any harm.

 

“Scott, Allison and Stiles dunked themselves in ice water to stop their hearts temporarily, to be surrogate sacrifices for their parents, to divine the location of the Nemeton.  I don’t know what they saw, but it worked, they knew where it was.  Scott and Allison and Isaac went to the tree but Deaton wanted Stiles to stay behind, said he had something to tell him.  Deaton said for me to go someplace safe, Stiles said that I’d be safe here with you and he’d come here to get me once he was done with Deaton.  I came here.  I told you all this.  25 minutes ago, Stiles sent me a text and I quote, “I know the answer now, stay there with Derek I’m on my way” The End.”

 

Derek stiffens, his senses pinging, hearing something.  He tries to lock it down and just... _can’t_.  He’s confused for a moment, then whirls to face the window once more.  The moon is already half gone.

 

“Call him again,” he says to Lydia.  She does, and the result is the same as the last 13 times.  No answer.

 

He braces his arms on the table and tries to think of something, anything he can do.  He turns at the sound of a step into the loft.

 

“Well, well, Derek and Lydia, the two people I most wanted to see in the exact place I need them to be.”

 

The Darach stands before them, her face triumphant, her smile mocking.

 

Lydia gasps and stumbles backwards, pressing herself up against one of the support struts.

Derek reaches for the shift, rolling his neck, but there’s nothing there.  There’s just _a lack_ where before there had been his very self.   

 

He stalks forward to her.  “Get out,” he snarls, and a moment later he is flying through the air, slamming heavily against the wall.  He feels it, feels the pain, and it doesn’t go away, this is a pain that is more than just momentary.  He struggles to pick himself off the ground.

 

Dimly he can hear Lydia ask, “What do you want from me?”

 

“I want you to scream,” Jennifer replies, her voice cold and ugly.

 

And Lydia does, she screams with the last crescent of the moon still hanging in the sky.  

 

Anyone she considers an ally--her pack--within miles and miles will hear it.  Derek clambers clumsily to his feet.  That’s definitely Scott, himself (surprisingly), Isaac, maybe even the twins.  

 

Jennifer takes a step closer to Lydia and she gasps, shrinking backwards in fear.  Derek’s moving before he’s aware of it, flinging his body between them, knocking the knife from Jennifer’s hand. Her face twists in rage, and he grabs her ‘round the shoulders, tries to throw her but she mirrors his movements.

 

He knows he has no chance against her, handicapped as he is, she bloated with her ill-gotten power.  The thought that he was once like her, once consumed with the desire for power and self-assured righteousness, churns his stomach.

 

The moon is gone from the sky, leaving Derek Hale feeling bereft, and painfully human.

 

In all his life, he’s never wanted to be human.

 

Human - it’s all the things that terrify him.

 

He struggles against Jennifer as best he can, until light flares in and around his vision, pain blooms in his chest, and Jennifer does _something_ , the backlash of which throws him to the ground.

 

Jennifer stands above him, her features twisted in a smirk of victory.  Cruel, mad and vengeful. Why had he ever thought she was sweet and innocent and kind? How had he never noticed the mad light in her eyes?  

 

She flexes her hand, the one she'd slammed into his chest and used to _take_ from him.  He tries to bare his fangs at her, but he has none to bare.

 

"Now now Derek," She smirks, "Don't feel so beaten up about it all." She pauses to laugh at her own joke.

 

After a moment she stops, and her face resolves into a benevolent, tender expression. It makes Derek want to throw up.

 

"Derek,” She croons, “you can't think that for a minute I wanted it like this.  You and I are bound together, we are better together.  You don't have to fight it."

 

He's not a wolf, but he howls at her anyway.

 

She opens her mouth to continue, but someone beats her to it.

 

"Excuse me sweetheart," Lydia Martin says from behind her.

 

As Jennifer turns, Lydia is already blowing shimmering white dust in her face.  Jennifer shrieks, her true form rising to the surface, and she staggers backwards and trips over the table, collapses in a gasping heap on the floor; in a whirlwind of her own power turned against her.

 

He and Lydia share a look of complete understanding, and then they both explode into movement.  Derek flings himself off the floor reaching for her, to guard her back as they both make for the door.  It opens before they reach it to reveal Isaac and Allison, beckoning to them, screaming in what seems like slow motion to Derek, “Come on!”

 

As they run down the stairs the four of them, gasping and terror-fueled, Derek realizes this is the proverbial situation in which _he is glad to see not only a hunter but an Argent as well._ He shakes his head and turns to Lydia as he runs, “Lydia, your phone,” he says.  She fumbles for a moment, they burst out of the double doors of the building and out into the street, and she tosses it to him without question.

 

“Get Lydia out of here,” He yells, scrolling through the contacts as he runs to his car.

 

“Where are you going,” Isaac demands?

 

“Stiles, I have to find him,” He yells as he pulls up the phone’s call log, and wrenches open the door to his car and flings himself inside as he dials the number.

 

It rings. And rings, and rings. Derek doesn’t know what to do. He’s helpless, he’ll never find Stiles without his werewolf senses.

 

Allison peels out of the parking lot, Isaac and Lydia safe in the Argent SUV with her.

 

Derek looks nervously back up at the loft.

 

And then Stiles answers.

 

“‘llo?”

 

When he answers, Derek feels his heart start beating again, like it had stopped at some point without him realizing, "Stiles," he gasps, "where are you?"

 

"Derek?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Fucking crashed my jeep."  There’s a pause, and Derek can hear what sounds like Stiles stumbling around in underbrush, can definitely hear Stiles panting for air.

 

"Are you ok?"

 

"Ok," He answers distractedly.

 

"Stiles, where are you?"  Another few moments of Stiles breathing heavily.

 

"In the woods."

 

" _Where_ in the woods."

 

"Derek I _don’t know where in the woods ok,_ I’m not a werewolf, I cannot sense my territory or what the fuck ever."

 

"Stiles.  Listen to me.  I know you don't know where you are.  But you can figure it out."

 

A moment where Derek doesn't hear anything at all, and then "Yeah-yeah, ok.  Just give me a moment."

 

Derek waits.

 

"I can hear- I can hear the stream, I think it's off to my right."

 

"Ok that's great Stiles, listen to me.  Get to the stream, and follow it down, it leads close to my house, ok?  You should recognize that area, even at night.  I'll find you there, keep moving, whatever happens don't stop."

 

"Ok, I’m headed to the water now."

*****

The quiet of the night around him now is surreal, given all that's happened, is still happening.

Derek reached the remains of his house without incident, but without his senses, he's just as much blind and in the dark as Stiles must be.  His body is so _weak_ like this, he's struggling to breathe, reaching for air, but it's almost as if some necessary component his body needs to process oxygen has been taken from him.

 

He doesn’t know what he's doing anymore.  'Do it for something meaningful', Cora’s voice echoes in his mind. He can't fight, handicapped as he is, and he doesn't have anything meaningful anymore. But fuck if it doesn't feel like he's dying anyway.

 

Over the buzzing sound in his ears, he realizes he can hear his name being called.

 

"Derek, Derek!"

 

"Stiles," He shouts, his voice hoarse and weak.  They play a sad game of Marco Polo for the next few minutes, stumbling around each other in the dark until they finally meet in a small clearing.

 

His breath shudders out of him in relief, then stills in his lungs as Stiles latches his hands into Derek's shoulders. "Derek, Derek," he cries as he shakes him.

 

" _What_?" Derek snaps, panicking, jerking his body around, looking for the threat.

 

"Jennifer, did she get you, did she take something from you, did she get a hold of your alpha powers?"

 

"I-what?  Stiles, I already gave up my powers for Cora."

 

Stiles shakes his head furiously, "No no no, that was voluntary, your powers would have returned to you in time, the spark, that's yours it can only be taken, did she do anything strange to you?!"

 

After a moment of silence, Derek gets his voice to work and is surprised when it comes out evenly.  "Yeah."

 

Then, suddenly, up over Stiles’ shoulder, the barest hint of silver in the sky.  Derek's heart constricts inside his chest.

 

He puts a hand over his heart, bewildered.  "What?" he gasps, and then a bolt of pain follows, lancing through his mind.

 

"It's killing you, what she took during the eclipse, your body is a werewolf--I mean _you_ are a werewolf, okay, but she took that from you and now the lack of that is going to kill you if you can't return to who you are."

 

"I'm going to die?"  Their eyes meet.

 

"NO!" Stiles shouts fiercely, “Deaton said, he said I can save you, I can do it, and I’m not going to let you die ok?"

 

A dull pain writhes in Derek's stomach.  He closes his eyes against the wrongness he suddenly feels through his body, reaching for something that has been _taken_ from him, something he should have but possesses no longer.

 

"I know you won't," he whispers, "I trust you."

 

Stiles hands tremble against his shoulders.

 

"Fuck fuck," He whispers, "Ok, here we go."  Stiles presses his hands against Derek's chest, warm, almost searing.  A minute passes and the moon brightens further, and Derek shifts his stance, uncomfortable in his skin, feeling something _missing_ , but does his best to shove the panic down and away.

 

"Damnit, fuck," Stiles takes his hands off of Derek and fists them in his hair, " _How_ do I do it shit shit."

 

Derek's knees go slightly weak as more of the moon is lifted from its exile.  He drops his head down, presses his forehead against Stiles shoulder.  He tries to concentrate on breathing.

 

Stiles inhales sharply.  Derek lifts his head up.

 

"Derek, Derek kiss me!"

 

" _What_?"

 

"Just do it, I know what I have to do, I know how to do it, kiss me now," and Stiles is fisting his hands into Derek's shirt and yanking him closer and a thousand thoughts and moments that Derek's been confused by for months suddenly make sense as his mouth is yanked down and captured by Stiles’.

 

For a brief second, it's just a kiss, Stiles' lips pressed hard against his own, slightly parted ( _welcoming and inviting_ ) and then something surges in between them, a heat, a flare, a _spark,_ Derek realizes with a groan. He chases that warmth, that light with his mouth, bringing his hands up to cup Stiles' face, pressing into him, pushing them until Stiles' back hits up against a tree.  

 

Their mouths are suddenly desperate and frenzied, sucking and pulling, becoming slick with each other's spit.  Derek swipes his tongue over Stiles' bottom lip and Stiles opens his mouth with a gasp. Derek's tongue slips inside, tangling with Stiles' tongue and then Stiles starts sucking on him, chases Derek's tongue back inside his mouth, sweeps it around like he's trying to map every inch of him.  It's take and take and give and give, the air around them full of the sweet slick sounds of their mouths, their gasps for air, the aborted grunts Derek finds himself making, the needy whimpers that Stiles gives as they fuck into each other's mouths with their tongues. Derek feels it feels it, feels it in his bones, is dizzy with it, heady and high and sweet and overcome.

 

"Stiles," He groans as he breaks the kiss to lick down Stiles’ jaw and bite carefully at his neck.  The moon is returning swiftly, more than half full once again, Derek realizes, and with it the rest of himself. His senses heighten, and then he feels it, this link between them, pouring from Stiles into him, jacking his power up and up, over the threshold of the beta and into the realm of the alpha.

 

He's felt it before but this time it feels different. The feeling is so _right_ , it feels like so much more.  Every single part of this moment feels like it was meant to happen this way, thrumming deep in his bones and pumping in his veins.

 

He wants more.  He wants more of Stiles, he wants all of Stiles and he understands, _understands_ now what happened between him and Jennifer, why it had all felt so familiar, why he’d thought her eyes were bright and her voice was captivating. Why everything she’d said had made him feel like a person again, whole and unbroken.

 

Why everything that had happened between them had felt like deja-vu.  

 

“Stiles,” he groans, “Stiles,” wanting, needing to somehow _tell_ Stiles this, make him understand.

 

But there’s no room in between them right now for words.

 

Only for this - Derek and Stiles.

 

He moans, deep and low and rocks his hips into Stiles, both of them hard and straining against their jeans.  Stiles flings his head back and knocks it against the tree.  " _Fuck_ yesss" he hisses.

 

He does it again, the hard bulge of his cock pressing up against Stiles’ and pleasure flares up in every nerve ending of his body and then he's thrusting against Stiles over and over, the force of his thrusts rocking Stiles' whole body.

 

"Yes, yes yes," Stiles pants into his mouth.  Derek groans, the moon growing brighter and brighter, everything glory in his brain, pleasure in his skin.  He takes his hands from Stiles face and grips him tight under his ass, flexing his fingers into the muscle of it with a growl.

 

"GOD, fuck YES," Stiles shouts, then he's leaping up, (Derek taking his weight easily then bracing them against the tree), and wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist.

 

"Climb you like a tree," Stiles chokes out with a hysterical sounding laugh.  Both of them are panting and flushed.  Derek feels wrecked, Stiles looks ruined, face flushed and eyes wide, pupils dilated; his lips swollen and abused looking.  He flings one arm over Derek's shoulders, and grips his other hand hard around the back of his neck.  Their foreheads are pressed together: they're breathing in each other's breath.

 

Derek has a lucid moment, where he remembers that Stiles is young, so young, he's just a fucking kid, and fuck isn't this his first time, and his body stiffens, pulling back.

 

He's worried; he's terrified suddenly that he's taking something he's not supposed to be taking.

 

"No no no," Stiles moans, catches Derek's gaze with his own.  "What do you think you are _doing_ ," he spits out, using what leverage he can get to keep rutting up against Derek.

 

Derek shakes with the effort of resisting him.  "Stiles I can't, this is, I shouldn't,"  but his train of thought cuts of as Stiles arches his back and brings their erections flush against each other, Derek's cock throbbing at the contact, wanting to be freed from the restriction of his pants and be pressed against the bare skin of Stiles dick.

 

"Derek, Derek, I'm giving it to you, fucking take it!" Stiles yells at him, frustration and desire, and there are the limits of Derek’s noble intentions.

 

"Fuck, fuck," he gasps and their mouths are meeting again, tongues clashing, wet and sloppy, the sounds slick and filthy.  Derek drops a hand down to paw at the fastenings of Stiles pants as Stiles has that very same idea and reaches down to deftly unfasten the buttons on Derek’s jeans.

 

Then they're both free, cocks straining out and weeping and instinct, returning with the last pieces of the moon, overtakes Derek and he's thrusting into Stiles, using his grip on his ass to pull him into it, their dicks rubbing wet and hot against each other.

 

Fuck that's Stiles flesh against his flesh, vulnerable and raw and _fuck_.  Stiles keens out a sound that hits Derek right in his gut, can feel his balls draw up tight and high, grunting like a beast as he fucks his cock against Stiles’, fucking rutting against him, the smell of their sweat their skin the sex filling his lungs.

 

"Derek, Derek, gonna come please please please yes fuck GOD coming FUCK!" and then Stiles’ cock is jerking and spilling his seed over both of them and Derek loses his balance, feels like he's losing his fucking mind and they tumble to the ground, Derek's hips working frenzied and desperate, driving Stiles into the earth and loam and dirt.

 

"Come on Derek _come on_ ," Stiles is moaning into his ear, Derek fighting for breath, everything growing fuzzy and bright, a current down his spine, "fucking come all over me yes yes, that's it, we're gonna live, gonna survive and then you're gonna fuck me, be inside me and I’m gonna ride you till you fucking die, gonna fuck into you until you're begging me," And then Derek is hurtling over the edge, howling as his orgasm slams into him, drenching them both in his cum, their scents mingling and becoming one. His eyes roll back into his head with the force of it; feels like dying and being rewritten, it feels like he’s being remade.

 

He comes down from his high to realize that he's shuddering against Stiles, collapsed on top of him, his face buried against Stiles’ neck, breathing in the scent, that fucking smell of sex and spunk and _Stiles_.  Derek moans, angles his head, and sinks human teeth into Stiles’ neck, almost whiting out again at the wave of pleasure that rushes through his mind.

 

Stiles jolts underneath him, hips jerking upwards and into Derek’s and he yells, voice breaking on the words, " _Christ_ , Derek!"

 

Derek slowly pulls his teeth from Stiles and soothes the bite with his tongue, tasting the salt of his skin.

 

Stiles' hands are rubbing soothing circles on his back, and with a feeling of...contentment?  

 

Derek realizes that their breathing has synchronized, deep and slowing down.

 

In a moment, they’ll have to get up, clean themselves off as best they can.  In a moment they’ll have to return to their friends and the death and horror they’ve just finished escaping.

 

Derek doesn’t let this one go to waste.

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It was always you.”

 

“You’re gonna hafta give me more than that to go on,” Stiles snorts.

 

“With Jennifer, the reason that I trusted her so quickly was because she was acting, _being_ like you, everything she said and did - it was,” Derek breaks off helplessly, not sure how to explain something he’d never been consciously aware of until a few minutes ago.  

 

He snorts.  “What, did she leech my sparky-ness, to tap into your peripheral man-longing or something.”

 

Derek makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Pretty much,” he agrees.  

 

Stiles clears his throat.  “Oh.”

 

When Stiles doesn’t say anything else, Derek says, “We should go.”

 

They gather themselves together as best they can, and start off towards the car, lead by Derek and his supernatural senses that he’s always sort of taken for granted, despite the vast majority of the people on the planet who have no such abilities, and which he swears to himself he will never do again.

 

They’ve almost made it back to the car when Stiles asks, “So are we werewolf married now?”

 

“Stiles, oh my God, shut up.”

 

Stiles cracks up as they get in the car and everything is moving forward and not standing still for the first time in almost as long as Derek can remember. This is the first moment that he’s actively lived in since before the fire most likely.  

 

He starts the car.

 

“We gonna go save the day?”

 

Derek considers this as he shifts into drive.

 

He shrugs, “I’m the alpha,” hears Stiles grind his teeth, then continues, “and you’re the spark.”

 

His leaves his unspoken, ‘I think we can handle it,’ hanging in the air.  Stiles grins.

 

And then he floors it.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY BIRTHDAY TO MY [TUMBLR](http://rizuno.tumblr.com/) !!! CANT STOP THE STEREK AMIRITE?


End file.
